Sinister: Sniffin Glue

John Warrander warranderj at xxx.com
Wed Sep 29 19:40:46 BST 1999


Hiya Chums,

I've taken to doing DIY every spare moment of my life so I've got bugger 
all time for fanciful rubbish like pop music these days. When I was at a 
giant "Topps Tiles" warehouse the other day though, I stepped outside from 
this ceramic emporium of fun and suddenly realised I was right across the 
road from Salford Lads Club. It was a very pleasing experience. All you 
crazy young things are probably far too busy being "artistic" and 
"intelligent" and really cool and interesting to appreciate these small 
joys in life. But the next time you think old fuckers are a bit boring, 
well fuck you.

Nice to see old Peter Miller's posting a bit more frequently again. Even if 
he does say stuff like "First and Last and Always" in a really deep voice. 
Just goes to show, the dark lord's ugly head pops up in the most unexpected 
places. I sort of had an inkling Miller was in cahoots with Beelzebub 
though by the scorn in some of his recent posts. I've always thought 
everything you've ever said was very serious Peter. And it's comforting to 
hear you can still get a stiffy.

Peter may be in for a treat quite soon too cos his old chum Augusto 
Pinochet's back in the dock again and surely a one way ticket to Spain is 
imminent (unless Jack Straw decides to keep sitting on the fence and just 
hope the evil old fucker dies before he's forced to make a decision of 
course). Sorry to disappoint you Peter but I doubt the General will be 
joining you at Paul the Deacon's house since he's not been able to have a 
stiffy for decades. I'm sure he'd approve of your methods though.

Why does everybody say "props" round these parts at the moment and can 
someone tell me what it means? I've tried dropping it into casual 
conversation but it made me look really stupid.

I'm training to be a bingo caller. Two and six, was she worth it? That's 
how much it cost for a shag during the war. It's good to talk about the 
war. Old people like it.

Little Robert McTaggart found a big pile of Sea Urchin flexis in his house 
the other day ("my god, how on earth did they get there?" he probably 
exclaimed). He's a bit embarrassed to sell them himself so if someone 
called Keith Watson say is selling "Summershine" on Tweenet in the next few 
days. Well it's really Tag.

Tag's my DIY buddy as it happens. Why just last night I gave him a "handy" 
Andy. I didn't really. But Tag likes me to say I did. If you can imagine 
Tag nude except for a utility belt though, then you're one sick 
mutherfucker. If the picture in your head has him with a stiffy then you 
should probably see a doctor. Strangely enough, Tag can never imagine 
himself with a stiffy. I expect that's why he's gone to see a doctor.

All you gurlies that were complaining about the lack of meat and two veg in 
Eyes Wide Shut might be interested to know that Ray Winstone gets his 
bollocks out in The War Zone. I've heard Tilda Swinton gets her tits out 
too but I've not seen it so I wouldn't like to get anyone's hopes up.

Football grounds in Glasgow have been the scene for some of the most wanton 
depravity I've ever witnessed in my life. You could do a lot worse than 
following the Dandy Dons to Pittodrie Katrina. Apart from the odd outbreak 
of bestiality it's usually quite a civilised affair. And the fans are real 
gents. When I took Mrs Warrander John along they said things to her like 
"we can always find our row because it's the one with the pretty lady on 
it" (or words to that effect) and she's not even pretty. Car rugs and a hot 
flask are strongly encouraged.

I went to school with a George Dickie. He customised an old 60s Vespa, 
painting it gold with red, white and blue stripes and it had lots of 
mirrors and chrome and stuff on it. About two days after it was finished 
some unpleasant types set it on fire and it was completely destroyed. I 
think he was a glue sniffer.

I'm a glue sniffer.
Love...John
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